


something real that's out of touch

by glorious_spoon



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Episode: s03ep14 A Kiss From a Rose, M/M, Worried Alec Lightwood
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-22
Updated: 2019-03-22
Packaged: 2019-11-28 01:32:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18201698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorious_spoon/pseuds/glorious_spoon
Summary: Magnus is perched on the foot of the bed when Alec slips in the door, barefoot and wearing one of Alec’s shirts.





	something real that's out of touch

**Author's Note:**

> I had a lot of feelings about 3x14, okay.

Magnus is perched on the foot of the bed when Alec slips in the door, barefoot and wearing one of Alec’s shirts. His hands are bare, his rings laid out neatly on the top of the dresser. He’s frowning down at his phone, but he sets it down when Alec comes in, gives him a smile that’s both sharp and lovely. “Ah. Hello, Alexander.”

“Hi,” Alec says, feeling more than a little like a child who just got caught sneaking in past curfew. He’s shaky with burnt-out adrenaline, the dissipating remnants of fruitless anger. He really kind of wishes that he’d just decked Lorenzo when he had the chance, even if it would have caused about five hundred more problems for everybody involved and been unprofessional as hell besides. “Um. I wasn’t expecting you to be back yet.”

Magnus cocks his head. “I wanted to see you.”

“Yeah. Sorry. I had—”

“Business?”

“I had some errands to run,” Alec finishes, stubbornly.

“Of course.” Magnus smiles, pats the blankets beside him, and waits until Alec has kicked off his shoes and crossed the room to sit down before he adds, “And how is Lorenzo?”

Alec swallows. For a second, he actually considers denying any knowledge of what Magnus is talking about, and then he lifts his chin, affects a lightness he doesn’t feel, and says, “As pleasant as always. We had a nice chat.”

“Oh, I’m sure you did.” Magnus lifts a hand, hesitates briefly, then settles it on Alec’s cheek. It’s not exactly a caress. His fingers are firm on the hinge of Alec’s jaw, holding him still. “Alexander.”

“I didn’t hit him,” Alec says. “If that’s what you’re worried about.”

“I wasn’t worried,” Magnus corrects, gently. Alec still can’t read the look on his face. He hates that. Magnus has always been a puzzle--a glorious, complicated puzzle--but Alec has been starting to learn the patterns of him. A little bit, at least. This feels like a door slammed in his face. “I trust you.”

“I wanted to.”

“Hit him? Of course you did. I do appreciate the restraint, though.”

“Magnus, are we—” He stops, shakes his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Whatever for?”

“I don’t know,” Alec says honestly. The planes of Magnus’s face are limned in golden light from the lamp on his desk, the remnants of his eyeliner smudged, his hair soft. It isn’t the first time that Alec has seen him like this, but there’s something different about it now: Magnus sitting cross-legged on Alec’s childhood bed, his broad shoulders tense under the worn cotton tank top he must have stolen out of Alec’s dresser. There’s something almost aggressively vulnerable about him. Like just being here like this, in the heart of the Institute, is an act of defiance. Maybe it is. “I feel like you’re upset with me.”

Something in Magnus softens at that. He smooths his thumb over Alec’s cheekbone, turning his firm grip into a caress so easily that Alec almost doubts what he felt earlier, then slides his fingers back to tug softly at Alec’s hair before leaning up to kiss him. 

“I’m not,” he says when they finally break apart. His voice is soft, the pads of his fingers warm on the nape of Alec’s neck. “It’s just been, well. A very long day.”

“Yeah, tell me about it,” Alec sighs. “But you are okay, though. Right?”

Magnus’s hesitation is so brief that it’s almost not there at all. Then he smiles, a lovely soft smile that crinkles the corners of his eyes, and says, “Of course I am. I have my magic back. I’m in bed with a beautiful man. I’m far better than _okay,_ darling.”

“Okay,” Alec says. Tomorrow, maybe, he’ll push the issue. He takes a breath, then says, “I’m happy for you. That you have your magic back, I mean. I know I wasn’t--earlier, I was upset about the apartment, but I still should have--I am happy for you. You know that, right?”

“I do.” Magnus kisses him again, slow and achingly sweet, then pulls away. “For now, though—” He waves a hand, and the lamp winks out, leaving the room in darkness. “Would you come to bed with me? Please?”

“Yeah, of course,” Alec says, and laughs, surprised, when Magnus’s hands wrap around his arms to haul him down onto the mattress in a sprawl of limbs. “To sleep, or…?”

“Or,” Magnus says firmly, his hands trending southward with clear purpose. “Definitely ‘or’.”

“Okay.” Alec presses a smiling kiss to the corner of his mouth, misaimed in the dark, and grins when Magnus laughs and tugs him down to kiss him properly. “I think I could live with that.”

He’s still worried. Something here isn’t quite right, and Magnus isn’t telling him everything. But for tonight--just for tonight--maybe they can both stop thinking about any of it, and just _be_.


End file.
